You Can Always Find Me Here
by GleekMom
Summary: It was a chance meeting, an instant connection, a childhood of friendship, and a lifetime of love. A Kid!Klaine AU.
1. Act 1: Curtains Up

**Author's Note:**

**Hello and welcome to my newest story. So this one's a little different. The chapters are shorter and the story is broken up into Acts. I'll be posting the chapters of each Act weekly on Sundays, then taking a couple weeks break in between each Act. I won't start posting an Act until it's complete. Act 1 is five chapters long.**

**I never thought I would write a Kid!Klaine story but I should know by now I always write what I say I never will. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Only one warning: Character death (canon)**

* * *

**Curtains Up**

**August 19, 2001**

Kurt wiggled and giggled in his red seat, his merchandise and playbill in his hand and his jaw dropping at the enormity of the Imperial Theatre. The show hadn't even started yet, but the theater buzzed with excitement and the cacophony of sounds coming from the orchestra warming up only a few rows in front of them made Kurt's body thrum with anticipation.

"Kurt darling," his mother whispered next to him in his ear. "If you don't settle down during the show you're going to distract the actors." Her voice had an airy amusement to it and it only made him fidget more.

"If you don't settle down you're not going to get the chance to distract the actors because I'm going to take you right out of this theater," his father warned on the other side.

Kurt froze and looked up at his Dad. His face was serious, but his eyes still sparkled and Kurt knew what that meant. He was in trouble but he wasn't _really_ in trouble. His pale cheeks grew pink and he flipped his feet in front of him, sitting properly on the seat with his hands folded in his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm just so excited!" he said, grinning up at his Dad.

Burt smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. "I know you are son. And we got you these tickets for your birthday because we thought you were a big enough boy at 8 to behave at a show, so prove us right," he said.

"Especially since you're already 8 and 3 months now," Elizabeth smirked and pulled Kurt in for a hug as best she could in the theater's seats. Kurt smiled and snuggled into her side. She was warm and smelled of her perfume which was really the best smell in the whole world and part of him wanted to just brush his fingers through her hair like he did when he was younger but he was too old for that now.

The houselights started to dim and he bounced slightly in his seat again before his father's hand on his thigh settled him. He couldn't believe he was finally here, his first Broadway show, _Les Miserables, _the one he'd been listening to in the back of his mother's car for as long as he could remember. He'd been asking for two years and they hadn't thought he was old enough, and truth be told they still didn't really think he was old enough. Burt had every intention of covering his eyes during some scenes. But finally they could no longer stand his constant whining and begging and handed him the envelope with the tickets at his birthday party in May. And now as the curtain came up on the Chain Gang, the steady beat of _"Look down!"_ pounding in his ears, he sat absolutely mesmerized.

Kurt was pretty sure he stopped breathing when Young Cosette sang _Castle on a Cloud_. It was one of the first songs he had ever learned and he sang it on nearly a daily basis in his bedroom at night, staring out the window into the darkened sky. The song meant everything to him and he thought that if the show stopped there he would be happy forever.

That was until his heart stopped and his face blushed red. He thanked the heavens the theater was dark and his parents couldn't see him, but as he stared at the cutest and most talented boy he had ever seen in his entire short life up on that stage, he had to all but resist the urge to gasp. Hints of curls peaked out beneath the adorable cap Gavroche wore and between his voice and his presence on that stage, Kurt saw absolutely no one and nothing else for the rest of the show. When the shots rang out into the theater and Gavroche choked out his final words before falling, Kurt wept and his mother gathered him in her arms, not understanding at all the impact that boy's death had on him. For a moment, Kurt felt like his whole world was over.

Finally Young Cosette and Gavroche came out for their curtain calls and Kurt screamed and jumped up and down and clapped like they were his best friends and he thought, just for a second, that Gavroche caught his eye and smiled. Kurt smiled back but the boy was already looking up at the balcony, beaming at his audience and Kurt suspected he had imagined the whole thing. It didn't matter though. This had been the most incredible day of his life.

He grabbed his merchandise and his mother's hand and pulled her. "Come on, I want to go to the stage door!" he shouted. His mother laughed and allowed herself to be led out of the theater and to the gated section near the side of the building. His father followed after them.

The sun was bright overhead, a hot day even for August, but the wind blew gently to cool them. Kurt was dressed in his finest slacks, a button down shirt, and a black and blue bowtie with just a touch of red highlight to perfectly match the _Les Miserables_ poster. He was bouncing on his toes, unable to keep still as he leaned against the barrier, waiting. His mother and father stood behind him, glowing at his enthusiasm. He held his poster and his Sharpie in his hand and swallowed a scream when the actors finally started coming out. He tried hard to pull it together. Just because he was a child didn't mean he had to act like one. One by one, the chorus went down the line signing, then Marius and Eponine. Kurt squeaked out his praise and quietly asked for autographs and the actors were happy to oblige. Finally the boy who played Gavroche stepped out, a huge smile on his face, and Kurt's heart began beating frantically. He cleared his throat, humming to make sure his voice still worked through the emotions he didn't understand, and rehearsed in his head what he was going to say.

And then the boy was standing right in front of him smiling and reaching a hand out for his poster and pen and Kurt's hands were shaking. "You were incredible," Kurt managed, his voice far breathier than he would like. If he'd thought the boy was gorgeous on stage he was even more stunning in person, a thick mop of short black curls on his head, the most beautiful honey golden eyes, and an adorable face that twinkled with warmth and a hint of mischief. "Could you sign my poster, um…" Kurt blushed. In all the excitement, he'd forgotten to look up the boy's name.

"My name is Blaine," the boy smiled, his gaze lingering on Kurt's face, _or was that just his imagination_, and took Kurt's marker.

"Kurt," he answered. His eyes fell to the ground with embarrassment. He was sure Blaine didn't care what his name was.

"It's nice to meet you Kurt," Blaine said handing the marker back, but he didn't move, his smile bright. "Did you enjoy the show? I saw you in the audience during the curtain call."

"Oh yes!" Kurt answered, eyes wide. "I've been listening to _Les Mis_ since probably before I could even sing along, but seeing it in person was incredible."

"I know," Blaine said and draped his arm over the rail, leaning against it. "I felt the same way the first time I saw it. What's your favorite song?"

"_Castle on a Cloud,_" Kurt grinned, his cheeks no doubt getting even redder. "That and _On My Own_, but I'm a soprano, so…"

Blaine's eyes widened with intrigue, his head cocking to the side. "Do you perform?"

"Blaine, we need to get going," a woman called and Kurt looked up as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on sweetheart, we need get your things and go home."

Kurt thought for a moment that Blaine's face fell but then it lit up again with an idea. "Hey Kurt, why don't you come backstage with me while I get my stuff?"

Kurt gasped with excitement and turned to his parents. "Can I Mom?" he begged.

"Blaine, I don't think that's a good idea…" the woman said.

"Kurt, I don't know that you're really allowed…" his mother said.

"PLEASE MOM!" Kurt and Blaine both begged.

The people around them were watching and the adults eyed one another while Kurt and Blaine looked at each other hopefully until they heard all three of their parents sigh.

"Fine, but we're just getting your things and leaving," said Blaine's mom.

"Fine Kurt, but only for a few minutes," Kurt's mom said.

"Yay," both boys yelled and jumped up and down.

"We'll meet you at the side door and let you in," Blaine shouted.

Kurt ran ahead, his Mom and Dad yelling behind him to wait and the side door opened, allowing them backstage of the Imperial Theatre. Kurt's jaw dropped in awe from the moment they entered and then Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and ran him down the hall to the dressing rooms. The parents shouted at them both, but neither boy listened and the grownups didn't chase after them.

"So can you really sing?" Blaine asked as he gathered up the school books that were strewn across his dressing table and threw them in his backpack.

"What?" Kurt asked, his attention brought back from just staring at his surroundings. He'd never really been backstage of any theater before, not just a Broadway one. It was incredible, and he never wanted to leave. "Oh yeah, I guess," he shrugged bashfully.

"Let me hear you," Blaine said. He zipped up his makeup bag and turned to look at Kurt.

Kurt stared at himself in the mirror. He didn't know what was happening here, how this could possibly be true. He was pretty sure he was about to wake up from some amazing dream, so he decided to take advantage of it while he could and he closed his eyes and sang.

_There is a castle on a cloud  
I like to go there in my sleep  
Aren't any floors for me to sweep  
Not in my castle on a cloud_

"Blaine Anderson what on earth is going on in here…who are you?"

Kurt opened his eyes and turned to see a girl their age, arms crossed in front of her. It took a moment for him to realize it was the girl who had played Young Cosette and again his heart raced.

"I'm…um…my name is Kurt…" he stammered, then realized he'd been singing her song. "Sorry…I mean…"

"Ignore her Kurt, she's just jealous of how good you are," Blaine smirked and took his hand. Electricity shot through Kurt's fingers but he ignored it. "This is my friend, Kurt, Kurt this is Rachel Berry. She plays Young Cosette and we go to school together too. She's like a sister to me. A very annoying sister," he added grimly.

"Humph," Rachel sniffed before holding a hand out. Kurt shook it. She had a strong grip. "I'm glad you're a boy. Not that you'd really be competition, but still glad you're a boy."

"Um, thanks?"

"Blaine, it's time to go," his mother said with an eyebrow raised, finally catching up to the boys.

Kurt's mother held her hand out for him and he reluctantly let go of Blaine's and took hers. "Well, it was really nice to meet you Blaine. I hope I get to see you again someday."

"Me too Kurt," Blaine said, though Kurt was pretty sure the wistful tone was only his imagination. His head was spinning after all. "Bye."

* * *

"Blaine, I do not know what possessed you to invite that boy backstage today." His mother brushed her fingers through his curls and tucked his blankets tight around him. "But it can't happen again."

"He was beautiful Mom," Blaine breathed and his cheeks blushed pink. "The most beautiful boy I've ever seen, and his voice…"

"Don't let your father hear you say that," she warned quickly, peering over her shoulder. "I'm serious Blaine. I had to lie to the security guards and tell them he was your friend."

"He _is_ my friend," Blaine insisted with a pout.

Amy Anderson smiled softly and tugged on a curl. "You don't even know his last name," she teased. Blaine frowned and turned away, snuggling into his pillow. Grownups just didn't understand.

She sighed and rubbed his back, then got up and turned the light out. She opened the door and went to pull it closed, but stopped for a moment in the doorway. "It's Hummel, by the way."

"What?" Blaine mumbled, still upset.

"His last name. We had to sign him in at the door with the security guards. It's Hummel." She left the room and closed the door behind her.

Blaine smiled and closed his eyes, hugging his pillow tight. Kurt Hummel, he thought, rolling the name over in his mind. Blaine and Kurt. Kurt and Blaine. He had a crush on a boy named Kurt Hummel and he had absolutely no idea how to find him again.

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**Author's Note:**

**Let me know what you think so far! The next update will be Sunday, October 20.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Barricades Arise

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone. Thank you so much for your lovely response to the start of this story. I hope I don't disappoint! Many many thanks to my beta and BFF, Jessie Rae. **

**Today was my last performance of Les Mis, so also my love to Gavroche, one of my favorite characters ever, who has inspired me since I was 13 years old and performing the show in my bedroom.**

* * *

**September 11, 2001**

Kurt watched and listened at the top of the stairs, knowing he was supposed to be asleep but who could sleep after the events of the day. His heart ached at the television news. Usually his parents tried to keep the awful things in the world from him but this could be hidden from no one. So much destruction and pain, but so much strength too. And somewhere in the rubble of New York City was a little boy that Kurt secretly said goodnight to on every evening star. A boy whose war had suddenly stepped outside the realm of Paris and pretend, and into his very real back yard.

Kurt gazed upon the evening star that night, and wished that Blaine was safe.

* * *

_**September 17, 2001**_

_Dear Blaine,_

_My teacher thought it would be a good idea if we wrote letters to kids in New York so they know they aren't alone after the terrible things that happened last week. She had a list from local schools but she also said if we knew someone we could write to them, and the only person I wanted to write to was you. _

_I don't know if you remember me. I'm Kurt. I'm the boy you brought backstage. Although maybe you do that all the time. But it was the perfect end to the perfect 8__th__ birthday present._

_I've been thinking about you. Worrying, I mean. I snuck downstairs to watch the news and saw the names, so I know you're ok. And I know Les Mis is back up and running again. But I'm still worried if you're really ok. And I hope all the people you love are ok too. It's so scary. Who knows what will happen now?_

_It meant so much to me when you took me backstage. So I thought I'd try and do something nice for you too. I don't even really know you but I was so proud of you up on that stage and I hope you can keep doing it day after day, night after night. I think the people of New York need that. _

_Well, writing time is up so I guess I should go. I don't know if you'll get this and you probably won't respond, but if you do just know that I'm thinking about you and pretend I'm in the audience again because I wish I was at every show._

Kurt looked up at the board and copied what the teacher had written about how to end a letter.

_Sincerely,  
Kurt Hummel_

He picked up the envelope and put his name and school address in the upper left hand corner, then wrote the address as best he could in the center.

_Blaine Anderson  
Les Miserables  
Imperial Theatre  
New York City, New York_

He gave it to his teacher to stamp and she looked up the zip code for him and added it. The rest she kept the same. She smiled at him, and he just shrugged nervously back. Chances are he'd never hear a word from Blaine again. But then again, it never hurt to try.

* * *

Blaine arrived at the theater Saturday at half hour and found an envelope on his dressing table addressed to him. His eyes caught the return address. _Kurt Hummel. _His breath hitched and his heart raced. It had been more than a month since he'd seen the boy that still haunted his dreams…at least until recently. Now his dreams had turned to nightmares.

He sat down and ripped it open, reading the letter three times, smiling bigger every time. How could Kurt think he didn't remember him? As crazy as it sounded, sometimes he was all Blaine could think about. And now he knew that Kurt thought of him as well, had worried about him during the madness of the last two weeks.

He quickly got into his costume and makeup, all the while wanting nothing more than to write back. He checked in with stage management then ran back to his table, pulling out his school notebook and a pen.

_**September 22, 2001**_

_Dear Kurt,_

_Of course I remember you! You have no idea how happy I was to get your letter. You just made my day! The show just started, so I'm sitting backstage trying to avoid my homework. We had a few days off but school started again this Monday (then we had Tuesday and Wednesday off for the Jewish Holidays). That was the only good part of everything that happened._

_I heard it all from my school. The first plane crashed and then we all ran to the windows until they made us move away. It was terrifying. The worst part is the nightmares. I can still hear the explosion of the plane, the crumble of the building. I can still smell the smoke in the air. In my nightmares no one comes to get us at school. We stack the desks and chairs to fight. I say that I know what I'm doing, I've done it before. The ending though doesn't change. I wake the moment the bullet hits. _

_The show reopened last Thursday and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I don't think climbing the barricade will ever be the same for me again. Now I really understand what we're fighting for._

_My family is all alright and I didn't know anyone who was hurt or killed but some of my friends do and my Dad worked with Cantor Fitzgerald sometimes so he lost a lot. He's angry and sad and that's never a good thing for me or my Mom. I've been trying to stay with Cooper a bit. That's my big brother. He's 19 and has his own apartment. Anyway, my Mom and my Dad aren't doing so well right now so I'm trying to stay with him as much as possible, make it easier for them, but things will have to go back to normal eventually, right?_

_I'm so glad I met you Kurt and got to bring you backstage. And just so you know, you are the only boy I've ever brought backstage and Mom says I can't ever do it again, so you'll stay the only one. I remember the first time Cooper took me to a Broadway show, it was just the most incredible feeling in the world, I never wanted to leave. I hope you feel the same way because you have a beautiful voice and I would hate for you not to use it. And for me to never hear it again._

_I'm hearing Rachel sing so I better get going. I hope you'll write again soon. _

_Your Friend,  
Blaine_

Blaine set the envelope aside to send out. He'd bum a stamp off someone in the cast or his brother if he had to. His mother and father couldn't know. They'd never let him keep writing to some stranger and if they did they'd insist on reading every letter to and from and he couldn't let that happen. The things he was writing to Kurt were private, his innermost thoughts. He took a deep breath and realized that he felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. This was the first time he'd really been able to talk about what the attacks had meant to him personally. He knew everyone else would just think he was crazy, even Rachel. His parents might even pull him out of the show if they knew that the role was affecting him like that. But yet he knew somehow that Kurt would listen and tell him it was okay. Maybe soon the nightmares would end.

* * *

Kurt had been fidgeting all morning as he got ready. Letters had been pouring in from New York City and everyone's penpal was writing back but Kurt still hadn't heard from Blaine. But when he got to school the letter sat on his desk and Kurt could barely contain his excitement. He ripped it open and read it as quickly as he could, hoping to get a chance to reread it at least once before class started. The letter set his heart aflutter and the dimples in his cheeks were deep from the broad smile that graced his face. But the bell rang, and he had to do morning work followed by math and reading and art. Then came lunch and recess and finally, after going crazy with anticipation the entire day, he finally could sit down and write his response to Blaine.

_**October 1, 2001**_

_Dear Blaine,_

_I'm so sorry you had to live through that. It looked so scary on tv. Being there must have been awful. I'm glad you have your brother to help you. I always wished I had a brother but it's just me and my parents. You should talk to him about it. And about the nightmares if you're still having them. My mom says nightmares are just the brains way of working things out in our heads. You fight on the barricade all the time so you've built one in your dreams to deal with the things in real life that aren't making sense. I think that's kind of amazing. I think you're kind of amazing._

_And sometimes I think dads just don't know how to deal with stuff when things get hard. Mine's the best and even he gets mad when things go wrong. My mom doesn't get mad though. She is pretty perfect._

_Like when I wanted to go to ballet class. My dad was all worried about it. He thought the kids would pick on me if they found out and he was right. But mom said that I should do what I want to do and ignore the bullies, dancing ballet doesn't make me weak. I think she's right because this girl Santana is in my ballet class and my class at school and she's the toughest girl I know. I don't know. Maybe kids do make fun of me but I don't care. I don't really fit in here anyway. I want to do what you do. I want to be on Broadway. And that takes hard work. But you know that._

_So how did you get to be Gavroche? I'm sure living in NY helped. I'm stuck in dumb old Ohio. And my dad says I'm too young to know what I really want to do yet. I want to go on auditions for commercials or shows. My dance school, well it's a theater school really, is doing West Side Story this year and I'm finally old enough to audition. So maybe I'll get my first shot if I don't totally mess up._

_Times up and all I did was babble on to you this whole letter but I have to send it anyway because my teacher is staring at me. Don't feel like you have to answer. I know you're busy. But I just wanted to let you know I understand, and you're not alone._

_Your friend,_  
_Kurt_

* * *

_**October 6, 2001**_

_Dear Kurt,  
_

_You weren't babbling. Babbling is when my dumb brother goes on and on about some stupid girl he likes which is why I can't come over some nights. But your letter wasn't babbling. I love hearing all about you._

_Don't give up on your dreams. Never worry about what other people think. If I did I wouldn't be where I am today. Keep practicing and I know you'll do amazing things._

_My brother is in the chorus of Phantom of the Opera. He got his agent to meet with me and made me sing for him. I've been singing with Cooper since probably before I could talk and he's been taking voice lessons since he was 13, so I guess it rubbed off. Anyway, a few auditions later and here I am. I don't take dance. My father would never let me. But I try to learn as much as I can. And I do have vocal and acting coaches now. It makes me more "marketable" which I guess Dad doesn't mind._

_I really hope you audition for West Side Story Kurt. I wish I could come see it. I know you'll be fantastic. I still hear your voice in my ear at night._

Blaine blushed and went to erase that part.

"What are you doing?" Blaine jumped and turned, Rachel's voice startling him. He put his pencil down and turned the letter over.

"Homework," he said innocently. "How do you spell _fantastic_?"

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "You're the best speller in class, everyone knows that." Rachel folded her arms and stared at him with complete disbelief. "And today is Saturday. We don't have homework over the weekends. So unless you're trying to get some extra credit, which goodness knows you don't need…"

"Fine Rachel, it's not homework, just…it's private that's all." Blaine turned away, but Rachel could still see the pink in his cheeks in the mirror and she attacked quickly. She grabbed the letter he'd been working on, twisting and turning and reading as quickly as possible before he finally grabbed it from her hand.

"Is this to that boy you brought backstage?" Rachel screeched incredulously.

"Be quiet or the whole audience will hear you," Blaine snapped defensively, putting the paper back on his table beneath a book. "And yes, it's to that boy. He started writing to me in September. It's a school project."

"For him," Rachel teased, her eyes sparkling with fun. "What's in it for you?"

Blaine shrugged. "He's a nice kid,"

"What is he 6?" she laughed.

"He's 8, smarty pants," he frowned. "But his writing is as good as mine so he must be pretty smart. You're just jealous 'cuz he sings as good as you do."

"As _well_ as I do," Rachel corrected haughtily. "Which he doesn't. And why would I be jealous of a kid who we're never going to see again."

"I hope I see him again," Blaine let slip.

Rachel's eyes brightened. "Are you in love with him?" she teased, but Blaine froze. Rachel's mouth dropped. "Oh my god you are!"

"That's ridiculous, he's a boy," Blaine said seriously. "And love is stupid."

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. "It's not ridiculous or stupid at all, my Dads are both boys and they love each other and it's beautiful!"

Blaine rolled his eyes and turned back to his table, fixing makeup that didn't need fixing. He grabbed his cap and slapped it on his head. "I have to go warm up," he snapped and he stormed into the darkness of backstage.

Rachel slipped the letter out again and read it over. She smiled softly and put it back where she found it. Blaine was most definitely in love with this boy. And she thought it was adorable.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hope you enjoyed! Drop me a note and let me know. See you next Sunday.**


	3. Chapter 3: These Are My People

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all so much for reading and following and favoriting and especially for your very thoughtful reviews! I love reviews that make me think and make me rewrite!**

**I hope that I address some of your questions and musings in this chapter. Please feel free to ask anything, I love answering you all. **

**Many things to my lovely beta, tifarae.**

* * *

_**October 22, 2001**_

_Dear Blaine,_

_It's almost Halloween. I am so excited. It's my favorite holiday. It's probably not for you. You get to dress up all the time. But Halloween is the one time of year I get to be whatever I want to be. _

_Well, not whatever. My Dad says I can't be a princess or a butterfly even if I wanted to be. Which I don't, those are some of the most unoriginal costumes ever. Everyone is going to be Harry Potter, but I don't want to be like everyone else. My mom made me this amazing Dumbledore costume, the robe is almost like Joseph's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Do you know that show? I love it._

_So what do you do for Halloween in NY? I go around to the houses in my neighborhood but you probably live in an apartment. Be careful. I know people are still scared and we don't know what's out there. But you also can't live in fear, right?_

_I bet in New York I could dress up like a princess if I wanted to._

_Your Friend,  
Kurt_

* * *

_**October 27, 2001**_

_Dear Kurt,_

_So if I said I was going as Harry Potter would you think I was boring and unoriginal? Or would you understand that I'm just a huge Harry Potter fan and sometimes I feel like I really am living in the cupboard under the stairs in the Dursley home._

_The theater is my Hogwarts. _

_You probably think that's really silly._

"Hey sweetie, you about ready to go?" Kurt's mom asked. "It's getting pretty dark out and all the other kids are starting out."

Kurt looked up from his letter and set it aside out of her sight. He didn't really care that the other kids were out trick or treating already. They wouldn't hang out with him anyway and the later he and his Mom went the more fun it was anyway. "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute."

She smiled at him. He looked like the perfect Dumbledore with his white wig, cap and beard. All he needed was the finishing touch. She lifted the velvet cape she'd made and offered it up to him. "Let me help you put this on?"

He really wanted to finish reading Blaine's letter but his Mom looked so excited to help him finish his look and he was incredibly proud of the work that she'd done. He hoped that someday he could sew as well as she could. He got up and she flipped the cape behind him, draping it over his shoulders. She took a moon shaped broach and fastened it. "You look perfect," she beamed.

"Thanks Mom," he said. He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I just want to fix my hair one more time, I'll be down in a minute."

She rolled her eyes at his constant primping. The boy definitely took after her. "Ok," she agreed, her eyes sparkling with love, and she left to meet him downstairs.

He quickly sat back down again and took out Blaine's letter to finish it.

_I go trick or treating in my apartment building. It somewhat lacks the appeal of going around outside in the dark fighting off ghosts and goblins. The fluorescent lights overhead ruin the mood. But this year the ghosts and goblins are a little more real anyway, so I'm glad to be indoors. I wish I had a show that night. I'd go trick or treating backstage. Sounds much more fun. And I bet I'd get more candy. I'll have to steal Rachel's from her dressing room._

_Wouldn't it be fun if we could go trick or treating together?_

_Your Friend,_

_Blaine_

* * *

**November 5, 2001**

_Dear Blaine,_

_I don't think it's silly at all to think the theater is your Hogwarts. I think it makes all the sense in the world. _

_Rehearsal for West Side Story today was amazing, I just want to do this all the time. Being the Jets little brother is just the best, everyone is so nice to me and I feel like I finally belong somewhere. Is that how you feel?_

_Probably not. You probably just mean it's magical. You probably have no trouble fitting in at school. You are this star on Broadway but I'm just the silly boy who came to kindergarten one day in a tutu._

_And now I've told you that and you probably want nothing to do with me too. _

_Your (hopefully still) friend,_

_Kurt_

_P.S. Say hi to Rachel. I hope she shared her candy with you._

* * *

**November 9, 2001**

_Dear Kurt,_

_I have lots of trouble fitting in. I don't really have friends I can talk to here. Not like I can talk to you. Everyone at school either thinks I'm weird or wants something from me. Well, everyone except for Rachel but then again I guess she's kind of weird too. She's not the easiest best friend in the world but she understands me more than the other kids. _

_So a little tutu is not going to scare me away. I'm jealous, if I'm honest. Not because you wore a tutu but because you were allowed to. It would not be a pretty thing at all around here if my Dad ever caught me in one. _

_I'm sorry. I hope that doesn't make you hate me. It's nothing bad about you. Just him._

"Blaine!"

He jumped at the sound of his father's voice. He quickly shoved the letter back into his desk and pulled out his math homework. The door swung open without knocking and Blaine gripped his pencil, working on his multiplication.

"Blaine Devon Anderson. Do you care to explain why your playroom is a complete disaster area?" his father barked, arms crossed angrily on his chest. "We have guests coming over for dinner tonight. And your things are supposed to be put away before you leave that room at any time. You know this, I shouldn't have to be having this conversation with you."

"I'm sorry," Blaine muttered, keeping his eyes on his paper. He'd run out the door for the theater the day before and he'd completely forgotten about the playroom after school today, so focused on writing back to Kurt.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it," Mr. Anderson said and Blaine's heart dropped. He was in trouble for sure. "You go clean that room and then it will be locked. 5 days. Your schoolwork and your housework come before that damn show, and if you can't handle it all, the show will be first to go, is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Blaine answered, tears coming to his eyes. He hated when his father yelled like this. It had gotten worse since the attacks but his father had always been known for his temper and his distaste for Blaine's life in the arts. Sometimes it scared him. Sometimes he feared that his father would take it all away. He got up and slipped out the door, making sure his father was following behind and not staying to go through his desk. The last thing he needed was his Dad seeing what he'd written to Kurt. He went downstairs to his playroom, a room no guest would ever see, and put away the games and the Legos and the books he'd had out. When he finally got it clean enough he stood by as his father took the key from his pocket and locked the door. He held in a sigh of regret. And anger. And a little bit of relief. It could have been worse, he supposed.

"Next time maybe you'll think twice before you leave the room like that." Blaine nodded, but said nothing. He was sure he would, because he knew next time it very likely would be worse. "Dinner will be in an hour. I expect you on your absolute best behavior. The Manfers have been through enough this year without having to deal with a petulant child."

"Yes Sir," Blaine said before he hurried back upstairs. He kept the tears from falling until he was safely away, in his room with the door closed. Shaking with emotion, he opened his drawer and took out his letter to Kurt.

_Sometimes I wish I was old enough to do 8 shows a week. Live at the theater. Never come home. _

_I know exactly what you mean. About belonging there. Ever since Cooper left home it's been the only place I've belonged. The guys in the show, they're all like my brothers. I feel safe there with them. Like I know they'd never let anyone hurt me. And on that stage I feel powerful. More powerful than I ever will be off of it._

_It's the best feeling in the whole world._

_Your (definite) friend,  
Blaine_

* * *

Kurt read Blaine's letter and a heaviness grew in his heart. His belly tumbled in uncertainty. He just knew something was wrong but he had no idea what it was or what to do. He knew who would though.

Kurt ran to his Mom and Dad's room and curled up on the bed. He could hear his Dad in the shower, scrubbing off the grease and grime after a busy day at the garage. His Mom was at her mirror, putting stuff on her face that she said made her skin feel soft and young.

Elizabeth glanced in the mirror back at her son and raised a brow, her lips quirked in a smile. "Are you here just to watch or because you have a question?"

Kurt frowned. "I have a question." His brow furrowed and his voice sounded very solemn.

Elizabeth stopped and turned. "This sounds serious," she said and he nodded. She came and sat next to him. "What's up?"

Kurt fiddled with his fingers nervously but looked up at her, bright blue eyes questioning. "What do you do if you think a friend's in trouble?"

His mother pursed her lips and took a breath. "Wow, that is a serious question. Are we talking big trouble or little trouble?"

Kurt thought about it, but Blaine didn't really say anything specific in his letters. It was more just a feeling that Kurt had. "I don't know."

"Well, I think that's the first thing to find out. So it's important to let your friend know they can talk to you. And for you to listen. "

"And then what?"

"If it's a little trouble then you guys can talk about how to fix it. But if it's big trouble," she warned and lifted his chin with her finger, "then it's important to talk to a grown up about it. A teacher, or me, or your Dad. Okay?"

Kurt nodded and smiled. He knew what he needed to do now. "Okay. Night Mom!" She laughed and kissed him goodnight, hoping that his problems would always be so easy to answer. Kurt scooted off the bed and padded back down the hall to his room. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a piece of paper.

_**November 15, 2001**_

_Dear Blaine,_

_I don't know if you'll get this letter before Thanksgiving, but if you do I hope you have a Happy Turkey Day. And if you don't, well I hope you HAD a Happy Turkey Day. I hope you have family there that makes you happy._

_Sometimes you seem so sad in your letters. I don't like to think of you as sad. If there are things you need to talk about I hope you can tell me and I will always listen. I don't let anyone read your letters, I promise. Your secrets are safe with me._

_So my Dad's letting me take voice lessons! The school told him that I have real potential and he signed me up. So that's dance and voice. I'm on my way to being a triple threat! I hope you get to take dance soon. Maybe if you ask about Jazz or Hip Hop instead of Ballet? You won't know until you try, right? Even Dads can surprise you._

_Speaking of surprises, I asked my Mom and Dad about going back to New York and they said maybe we could go again for my next birthday if I really wanted to. Not sure I could see Les Mis again, they'd probably want to see something different, but maybe we could get together somehow? If you want to I mean._

_Your Friend,  
Kurt_

* * *

_**November 24, 2001**_

_Dear Kurt,_

_I would love to see you again for your birthday. We'll figure something out, even if I have to sneak away._

_Thanksgiving was…Thanksgiving. At least Cooper was here. And my grandparents. Who are okay sometimes and this time they were in a pretty good mood and they got me a keyboard so now I get to play piano. My grandmother used to be a piano teacher, so she gave me my first lesson. I can't wait to learn. _

_I haven't gotten up the nerve to ask my Dad about the dance lessons yet, but I will, I promise. That's exciting about your voice lessons. You're going to be a star one day, I just know it. Maybe we will star on Broadway together. King Arthur and Lancelot. Archibald and Neville. Or maybe sooner as Colin and Dickon! Or Oliver and the Artful Dodger! Oh Kurt, you have to come out here and start auditioning! Maybe I can introduce you to my agent when you come for your birthday?_

_Master of the House is playing. Someday I'm going to miss my entrance writing to you. Or the stage manager's gonna start missing her stamps!_

_You said my secrets were safe, so, Shhh…don't tell!_

_Your Friend,  
Blaine_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you my lovelies for reading. Please write and tell me what you thought **


	4. Chapter 4: Love is Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all so much for reading and your amazing reviews. For those of you who write as guests I wish I could answer you so sign in if you can! I love having communication with my readers.**

**Tissue Warning for this chapter (canon Character Death). Yes, that time has come. For those of you who read RTF as well, I'm sorry these two chapters come so close together. Maybe I should buy some stock in Kleenex ;-)**

**Many thanks to my awesome beta and BFF tifarae. Love you, you are the best!**

* * *

**December 13, 2001 **

"Sweetie, it's bedtime." Elizabeth peeked into Kurt's bedroom, the light from under the door betraying him. He sat on his bed, a flashlight glowing as he read a piece of paper in his hand. He looked up at her smiling with guilt, and she came and sat down next to him. "What's that?" she asked.

"Just a letter from my penpal," he said, turning the flashlight off and lying down.

She remembered the project. She'd signed a permission slip. "And this letter is so important that you need to read it at nine o'clock on a school night?" Her voice was low and airy, a bit of a laugh on the tip of her tongue. "Must be a pretty special pen pal."

"It's the boy who played Gavroche on Broadway," Kurt admitted, immediately growing bashful. "I wrote to him never thinking he'd write me back, but he did. And we've been writing back and forth now for a few months."

"Well, he must think you're pretty special than too," Elizabeth smiled, brushing a hand through Kurt's hair. "But now it's time to sleep." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He reached up for a hug and kissed her on the cheek as well. "Love you."

"I love you too Mommy," Kurt answered and laid down with a smile. "Hey Mom?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"I want to make a friendship bracelet for him for Christmas. Can you help me?"

"Of course," she said. "Now go to sleep."

She gently put the letter on his desk and blew him one more kiss before closing the door behind her. He waited three…two…one…then jumped out of bed and pulled his chair by the window, grabbing the letter to read again by the moonlight and the light of the back porch. He shivered against the chill seeping in. One more time, he promised himself. Then he'd go to sleep.

_Dear Kurt,_

_Another Saturday matinee, another chance to write to my favorite penpal. Well you're my only penpal, but even if you weren't you'd still be my favorite. I'm so glad your production of West Side story is going well. You really need to send me a picture of you as a Baby Jet. I bet you're absolutely adorable._

_I'm also really glad your voice lessons are going well. That's amazing. I finally did what you said and asked again if I could at least take Jazz, but Dad said no boy of mine is dancing like a fairy. I tried to tell him fairies don't dance they fly, but well, he didn't take that very well. But I'm still proud of myself for asking. And, Rachel said she'd teach me in our spare time backstage and at school._

_I'm getting a little nervous with the end of my contract coming up. I really hope they'll ask me back for another 6 months. And that Dad will sign. I don't think my Dad wants me staying in the show, but some of the boys are 12 so it's possible I could stay for a long, long time if they let me. It's not like I'm growing very quickly. Cooper says though that everything in theater is fleeting. He's back auditioning. I'm sure he'll get something soon._

_Anyway, enough about me. How's third grade treating you? I think it was so much easier than fourth. Fourth grade is hard. I hope you're okay. Do you have another audition coming up after your show closes? I feel like I want to say I miss you even though we've only met once. I wish we could talk on the phone but I know it's kind of weird. Our parents would never understand._

_Write soon!_

_Your Friend,  
Blaine_

_P.S. I hope you like your Christmas present!_

* * *

_**January 7, 2002**_

_Happy New Year Blaine!_

_I'm sorry I didn't get to write much over Christmas break. Thank you so much for my signed book of Les Miserables! Mom says she'll find all of Gavroche's parts and we can read them together. I'm sorry your Dad reacted the way he did about the dance class. Parents can be so dumb sometimes. My mom got me a new tea set. That probably seems silly to you. I mean what boy wants a tea set? But she knows I like those things. Dad told me it would be Mom's job to play that with me, he'll teach me how to throw a football. Not sure I really want to learn, but I love him so I'll try._

_How's Rachel? I feel like I should write to her sometime soon because I know so much about her_

"Kurt?"

Kurt looked up from his letter to his teacher at the front of the class. Ms. Wright from the main office was with her and they both looked kind of grim.

"Kurt, pack up your things, your Dad's here to pick you up," his teacher said warmly.

Kurt's heart immediately started to race. He didn't know anything about being dismissed early and scenarios began running through his mind. He tried not to guess as he put his books away and gathered his things. He could see everyone looking at him. He shoved the letter to Blaine into his communication folder. He'd finish it later.

He walked into the main office but didn't see his Dad. Ms. Wright led him into the principal's office and now Kurt was worried he'd done something wrong. His father's back was to him, hunched over, head in his hands. When he and Ms. Wright came in and closed the door behind them, his Dad sat up and turned around. Kurt froze. He looked like he'd been crying.

"Have a seat Kurt," the principal said and Kurt scooted into the wooden chair next to Burt, his feet nowhere near reaching the floor. "Your Dad has something he needs to tell you."

His dad took his hand and squeezed it. Tears formed in Burt's eyes and Kurt felt his own welling up even though he didn't know why. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Kurt." His dad's voice was rough and he choked on his words. "Bud, your Mom's in the hospital. They're not sure what's wrong with her. She had a headache this morning and now she won't wake up."

Kurt immediately started to cry and his voice shook with fear. "But she's going to be alright, right?" he asked.

Burt shook his head and took a deep breath. "I don't know son. The doctors don't know."

Kurt stood up and grabbed his things. "I need to see her," he demanded with all his strength.

Burt smiled softly at the boy who was stronger than anyone else he knew and stood up, keeping his hand wrapped around his son's. "Ok. Let's go."

* * *

Kurt sat by his Mom's bedside as long as they would let him. She looked so peaceful, lying there like she was sleeping, but the beeps and the buzzes and the doctors in and out drawing blood, trying to figure out what was wrong annoyed him. He prayed that God would make her better, but he was beginning to wonder if anyone was truly up there listening. She was on a machine to help her breathe. They said it didn't look good. They told him to say goodbye.

"Kurt, do you remember Dr. Lopez?" his dad asked him and Kurt looked up in the doorway. Santana's dad. He'd seen the man sometimes at dance class. Kurt nodded. "You're going to stay with Santana and her Mom tonight."

"I want to stay here, with you and Mom," Kurt insisted through his tears.

"You need to get some sleep and you aren't going to here. Go have a sleepover with Santana. I'll see you in the morning," Burt said.

"And mom?" Kurt asked.

Burt took his son in his arms and squeezed him tight. He didn't want to let go but he also didn't want Kurt to be here when it happened. "Mommy will always love you, Kurt. Don't ever forget that."

* * *

Kurt was lying on a mattress on the floor of Santana's room. He'd never been to her house before. It wasn't like his. It smelled different. It felt different. Spicy. His house was sweet. He stared at the ceiling into the darkness. He didn't know how his father could think he would sleep while his mother lay dying.

He knew that was what was happening.

"Are you asleep?" Santana whispered into the dark.

"No," Kurt breathed quietly.

"Do you think your Mom's gonna die?" Santana asked softly.

"Yes." His tears started falling again. He wasn't sure if they would ever really stop.

"Was she sick?" Santana rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand.

"No," Kurt said. "She was fine just yesterday."

"I'm sorry," Santana said.

"I wish Blaine was here."

"Who's Blaine?" Santana asked curiously.

"He's my penpal. From school."

"Oh, you're still writing to yours? I stopped months ago," Santana said.

"He's my best friend," Kurt whispered.

Santana wasn't sure a penpal could be a best friend and she thought it was kind of sad that he would need a best friend that lived so far away, but she thought it would be a little mean to point that out right now while things were so bad. "You can write to him tomorrow," she said instead.

"No," Kurt mumbled. He didn't want to write to Blaine. He wanted to talk to him. Hug him. Have Blaine tell him everything was going to be okay. "I don't really want to write until I know what's going on. I don't want to jinx anything."

Santana nodded. The spirits were mean like that. "That makes sense. I can be your best friend for now."

Kurt didn't say anything. They were quiet for a while, thinking, praying. Santana peaked over and saw Kurt's eyes wide open. "Do you want to come in bed with me? Or do you want me to come down there?"

Kurt just shrugged, so Santana slipped out of bed and snuggled in next to him. She put her arms around him and held him close. "If your mom dies, you can share mine. I know it's not the same but she's really nice."

Kurt swallowed and nodded. He didn't want her mom, he wanted his own, but he knew it would be rude to say that. "Thanks," he said instead. He barely felt Santana's arms around him but it was better than nothing. Very slowly, he drifted asleep.

* * *

His mother lasted until the end of the week but in a blink of an eye she was gone. He didn't write until after the funeral. He thought maybe if he didn't put it down into words then she could still come back. But after he saw her coffin lowered into the ground he was pretty sure she was gone for good. He and his Dad returned to the house and he went right up to his room. He wasn't proud of it but while he was at Santana's house he had taken some stamps. He hoped they wouldn't notice. He couldn't stand the idea of going to his mother's drawers yet. He took off his suit coat and his tie and his dress shoes and took out the letter he had started a week ago. He drew a line beneath where he'd stopped and dated it again. By the time he was done the page was stained with tears, but he knew Blaine wouldn't mind.

_**January 15, 2002**_

_Dear Blaine,_

_My mom died._

_We had the funeral today._

_Nothing seems real. Everything is wrong. Her things are still here but she's not._

_I don't know what to do._

_I wish I could hear her voice._

_I wish I could hear your voice._

_My phone number is 419-555-0121._

_My dad won't even notice if you call. It's like he's in a fog. I could rob a bank right now and he wouldn't even know._

_Oh look at that. Humor. I guess it doesn't all go away when someone dies._

_Anyway, call me if you want to._

_Your Friend,  
Kurt_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you for reading. Your reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5: Have No Fear

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all so much for your kind words and thoughts, for reading and reviewing. This story just keeps pouring out of me and I am loving writing it. **

**This is the last chapter of Act 1, so after this chapter will be a break. Chapters 6, 7 and 8 are written, 9 and 10 are pretty clear in my head, so I hope the break will only be a week or two. I love your reviews too much to keep you waiting for long!**

**Special thanks to my beta tifarae who is always there to talk things through.**

* * *

Rachel skipped to Blaine's dressing room after checking her presets, ready to see if he wanted to work on some of his dance moves. But when she came around the corner, she found him at his table, a letter in his hand, tears streaming down his face.

"What's the matter?" she breathed, frozen at the door.

He looked up at her, his normally warm eyes empty with shock until his brain caught up to his ears and he blinked. His focus returned to see who was standing in front of him. "She died." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Who died?" Rachel came to his side and gently took the letter from Blaine's hand. He didn't protest. She wasn't even sure he noticed.

"Kurt's Mom."

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my god Blaine, I'm so sorry. I didn't even know she was sick."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't think she was. I don't know what happened." He wiped his eyes, wet from the tears he held back. "I can't even imagine what Kurt is going through."

Rachel read through the letter. "Are you going to call him?" she wondered.

"I want to," Blaine admitted. "I can't call from my house though. I'm going to see if I can go to Cooper's tonight."

"What are you going to say?" she asked.

"To Kurt?" She nodded. Blaine shrugged with uncertainty. "I don't know."

"Maybe you should write to him first?" she suggested, holding Kurt's letter out for him. "Maybe it will help?"

Blaine took it back, holding it sacredly. "Yeah, you're right, maybe it will."

She flipped her Cosette mangled hair playfully. "Of course I'm right," she smiled softly. She gave him a quick hug and kiss on his head and left him to his thoughts.

Feeling heavy in his skin with sadness, Blaine pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his backpack. He took his cap off and ran his fingers through his curls with a sigh. He closed his eyes and slowly the words came.

_**January 19, 2002**_

_Dear Kurt,_

_Hopefully by the time you get this letter we will have already talked. But I'll say it anyway. I'm so sorry about your mom. I honestly can't even imagine what it must be like. It's too hard for me to even think about._

_So I hope you're okay. I mean, I know you're not okay but I hope you are okay enough. If you're not I hope you can tell someone. Your dad. A teacher at school. A friend. _

_Me. _

_You know how it goes. Trust Gavroche. Have no fear. You can always find me here. _

_Well it's true. You were here for me when I needed someone to talk to. I'll always be here for you Kurt._

_Your Friend_

He looked at what he'd just written and he crossed it out. It didn't seem like enough somehow. Not today.

_Love,  
Blaine_

* * *

Kurt was curled up on the couch with his Dad watching a movie. They'd done this a lot since the funeral. His Dad wanted to be close to him and Kurt loved the sense of safety he felt in his father's arms. It almost made him believe that someday his life might be okay again.

The phone rang and Kurt jumped, checking the clock immediately as his heart skipped a beat. It had been that way since he'd sent the letter. Every phone call, he hoped it might be Blaine. "I'll get it," he said and his father offered no complaint when he crawled off of him and ran into the kitchen. He climbed the chair that let him reach the phone on the wall and twirled the cord around his fingers as he sat down to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi, is um…is Kurt there?" The small nervous voice on the other end of the phone took Kurt's breath away. He wouldn't let himself believe it was him though, not yet.

"This is Kurt," he answered hesitantly.

"Kurt, it's Blaine."

Three simple words. Three simple words that felt like the world shifted and he had absolutely no idea why. He couldn't believe it. Writing the letters it had been easy to hope for the best but dismiss it, tell himself that Blaine was just being nice to a fan. When he'd written his phone number down a part of him never imagined that he mattered enough to Blaine to actually call. But now his voice was on the other end of the telephone and he couldn't even breathe.

"Kurt, are you there? Are you okay?" Blaine's voice was worried now, and it melted Kurt's heart and drew him out of the fog he'd been living in.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said with a soft laugh. "I don't know about the okay part, but I'm here."

"Good, good," Blaine sighed with relief and grew silent for a minute. "Kurt I'm so sorry about your mom. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he admitted. When he talked about it or thought about it he couldn't stop crying and he didn't want to cry with Blaine on the phone. "I can't believe you really called."

"I got your letter this morning," Blaine explained. "I needed to hear your voice. Make sure you were alright. I couldn't wait a week or more to hear back from you and know for sure. Though there's a letter in the mail for you that you should get in a few days."

"I love getting your letters." Kurt blushed. Maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"I love getting your letters too."

Kurt smiled. A real smile for the first time in what seemed like forever. He twirled the cord in his hand again, trying to think of what to say. "So are you home now?"

"I'm at Cooper's, I begged him and my mom to let me come over." Blaine said and then paused. "I told him about you and he let me use his phone."

"You did?" Kurt pulled his knees up to his chest and squeezed them tight. His heart danced with delight. "What did you say?"

"I don't know," Blaine hedged and there was a bashful tone to his voice. "I told him about bringing you backstage and about us writing back and forth for a while now. And I told him how you were there for me after the attacks and I wanted to be there for you now." Kurt's smile faltered. His thoughts went back to his mom. "Cooper said I could give you his phone number. And you could call whenever you wanted. Leave a message and he'd let me know so I can call you back."

"I'd like that," Kurt answered quietly. He played with the cuff of his jeans. He wished Blaine lived nearby. They could go play in the park. "I'd told my Mom about you."

"Did you?" Blaine sounded excited. Like it meant something to him. "What did she say?"

"She helped me make the bracelet I sent you for Christmas. She said that we must be pretty special friends." The words had just poured out of him. He wondered if there was some way to take them back.

"I think she's right. We are pretty special friends." And suddenly there was that grin once more, the one that Kurt had never thought he would feel again. "Does your Dad know?" Blaine asked.

"No. I mean, not unless my mom told him. Which she might have," he considered. "But if she did he hasn't mentioned it to me."

"Do you think he'd make us stop writing if he knew?" Blaine asked. Kurt wondered for a minute if that's why Blaine was afraid of telling his own Dad.

"No," Kurt said. "I don't think so."

"I think you should tell him then," Blaine said. "I mean, what happens if I call one day and he answers the phone? In my experience it's always better when parents find out things from us rather than someone else."

"Yeah." Kurt nodded and unwrapped his legs. "You're probably right."

Kurt heard a voice in the background and a shuffle of the phone. "Kurt I have to go, my brother needs the phone. Is it okay if I call you again?"

"I would like that Blaine," Kurt smiled. "Anytime."

"Let me give you Cooper's number." Kurt scooted off the chair and to the counter where he copied it down. "When do you go back to school?"

"Tuesday," Kurt said sadly, though part of him was looking forward to going back to the routine.

"Well I hope my letter is there waiting for you," Blaine said sweetly.

"Me too," Kurt said. "Bye."

"Bye Kurt."

Kurt hung up the phone and just stood there for a minute, frozen in place by the urge to run up to his mother's room and jump on the bed and tell her that Blaine had just called him. But instead he walked quietly back to the living room. His father still sat there, in the same place where he'd left him. Kurt crawled back up and turned to face him. Burt's soft, sad, tired eyes found his son's and he forced a small smile. "Who was on the phone? You talked for a while."

Kurt took a deep breath and wrung his hands nervously. "Dad, there's something I have to tell you."

Burt sat up straighter and raised an eyebrow. "This sounds serious."

For a moment his Dad looked like the father Kurt remembered and he loved seeing it. "Did Mom tell you about the penpal I have?"

Burt shook his head. "I don't recall her mentioning it."

"Do you remember when we went to Les Mis for my birthday? And the boy who played Gavroche, Blaine, let us come back stage?"

"I don't think that's something I'd really forget kid," Burt teased. "Come on now, out with it."

"Well, Blaine and I have been writing back and forth since school started. He's really special to me. And I know I shouldn't have but when Mom died I gave him our phone number." Kurt saw his father's eyes narrow slightly and he continued quickly. "I just needed to talk to a friend and he's the best friend I have and I thought maybe if I heard his voice then things would be okay again, and I was right, I smiled for the first time, so please don't be mad."

"Kurt stop," Burt said and Kurt stopped but his Dad smiled too. It was small but it was the first real smile he'd had since too. "I'm not mad. Not at all." Burt took Kurt in his arms and hugged him tight, too tight and Kurt wiggled to get out, laughing until his father let go. "If this boy can make you smile then he's welcome to call anytime. Okay?" Kurt nodded, grinning from ear to ear while tears shone in his eyes. "Alright little man, bedtime. Can I tuck you in?"

Kurt hopped off the couch and ran to his bedroom. "Last one there is a rotten egg!"

* * *

He got Blaine's letter with the morning mail on Tuesday, but he tucked it away in his pocket, unable to read it until recess. The day wasn't easy. Everybody knew what had happened. The teachers treated him with kid gloves. The kids all stared and whispered behind his back. And after his conversation with his Dad and Blaine the other night he was really ready to move on as much as he could. He wanted to smile more than cry.

At recess he went to sit on the edge of the trees that surrounded the rear of the school. His legs curled beneath him to help keep in the warmth and he pulled the letter out of his pocket, opening it carefully. He read it over and over again.

_Trust Gavroche. Have no fear. You can always find me here. _

He did. He trusted Blaine with everything. Every secret, every emotion. And Blaine would always be there for him like no one else was. He didn't know how he knew that but he trusted it from the very depth of his soul.

A shadow crossed the paper and Kurt looked up. "Is this seat taken?" Santana stared down at him with her brown eyes raised in expectation. Kurt shook his head, but said nothing. She sat down and immediately looked over to what Kurt was reading. "Is that from him?"

Kurt nodded, then remembered he should probably speak to her. "Yeah. I actually talked to him on the phone the other day. He called."

"Cool," she said as she peered over. She raised a brow. "Love, Blaine?"

Kurt blushed and swiped the paper away from her, folding it back in the envelope. "It's just a way to end a letter. You remember that we learned that."

"Don't worry," she whispered with a sly grin. "Your secret is safe with me." They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the other kids on the playground. Kurt wondered why she'd rather sit here with him instead of playing with them, but he didn't ask. It was nice to have someone to sit with for a change. "Hey, what do you think of those dance recital outfits?" she suddenly asked. "Pretty boring if you ask me."

He looked at her and he saw. She knew that he just needed someone to be normal around him. Someone that would just let him pretend that everything was okay. "Needs some glitter and rhinestones for sure," he mused. The bell rang and the two stood up to head back inside. "I mean who dances to Madonna without glitter and rhinestones?"

"Not Kurt Hummel and Santana Lopez for sure," she grinned, taking his hand. "You should come over after school tomorrow and we can work on them together with my mom."

Kurt looked at her and wondered why she was doing this. Was it pity? It didn't look like it. He wasn't even sure Santana was capable of pity. Maybe she just liked him. He decided that whatever it was it was better than sitting at the shop with his dad all afternoon and it was most certainly better than dancing to Madonna in basic black. "I'll have my dad call your mom."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know and let me know what you hope to see coming up in the next Act or beyond! See you soon!**


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